


Statements of the Obvious (Will Be Issued Via Special Edition)

by misura



Category: Dancing on the Edge (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M, Referenced Antisemitism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Stanley meets Pamela's parents.
Relationships: Pamela Luscombe/Stanley Mitchell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Statements of the Obvious (Will Be Issued Via Special Edition)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArtooC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtooC/gifts).



_"I don't suppose that you should like to pretend to be Jewish, for a little while at least,"_ she'd asked him, and he had chuckled a bit weakly, the way he sometimes did when he didn't quite know what to make of her, which could be quite fun sometimes, really.

_"I don't think I should like to do that, no,"_ he'd replied. _"Why?"_

And she'd told him, _"You'll see soon enough,"_ and the nice thing about Stanley was, even if it might take him a while, he did see things in the end, if one gave him the time.

Pamela had tried to savor that, to find some small joy in watching Stanley's expression as he met her parents and they got to talking, as her mother took his hand and told him all about how horrible her last trip to Birmingham had been. To watch as Stanley gently pulled his hand away, his gaze meeting hers in a moment of almost-perfect understanding. (He'd thought, clearly, that he ought to be polite. She had, desperately, wished him not to be, to speak his mind and leave at once.)

They'd stuck around just long enough for dinner, but then her father had offered cigars and Stanley had made some excuse and they had left and now here they were.

"So. Your parents," Stanley said. He didn't look like he particularly pitied her, which was nice.

Pamela smiled at him. "Quite horrid, aren't they?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say _that_." Stanley offered her a light. "I wouldn't say 'horrid'."

"Why not? It's how I think of them, and I should know better than anyone," Pamela said. She watched him light a cigarette of his own and imagined the bitter taste of smoke on her tongue if she were to kiss him now.

"Horrible. Two extra letters," Stanley said. "Or, if we need to save space 'awful'."

"You're not going to write an article about my parents, Stanley," Pamela said. "You don't need to think about space or how many letters there are in a word."

Stanley inhaled a bit of smoke. "I might write an article one day about people _like_ your parents. Would that bother you?"

"I should hope you know better than thinking you need to ask me that."

Stanley said nothing for a little while. Pamela suspected that in his head, he had the article half-written already - running long, as always, and so he was looking for words to cut and change: 'awful' instead of 'horrid', 'certain people' instead of 'certain people including the parents of the woman I plan to marry'.

Pamela decided she'd quite like a drink.

"I suppose I was ... surprised," he said. "That two people like that would be connected in any way to someone like you."

"Julian used to say much the same thing." There - she had brought up his name quite casually, and it hadn't even hurt all that much. "We used to reassure each other how little like our parents we were. When we were very young, we would often speculate that we might be adopted."

"Adoption does sound quite plausible." Stanley grinned. "Drink?"

Pamela supposed he might have been a bit quicker, but then, she had learned early on to manage her expectations, to prevent people from surprising you. It was much more fun to be the one doing the surprising instead - in moderation, naturally. It did not do get too much of a reputation. "Please."

"I really am going to write that article, you know," Stanley said, as he got two glasses.

"I know," she said. "And I'm quite sure that it will change the world. Perhaps even prevent a war. People will read it and suddenly realize how horrid they've been being all this time and that really, they hadn't meant to be that way at all. They will write you long, passionate letters telling you how grateful they are to you for having made them see the light."

Stanley laughed, but she thought that for one brief moment, he'd looked hurt, as if he truly had wished to believe those things might happen, only now that she'd spoken of them out loud, he'd been forced to face how ridiculous that was. "I'm not quite that naive, thank you. Still, I think some things need saying, and if I don't say them, who will?"

"Yes," Pamela said. "I think you should write an article, Stanley. Many articles."

"Well, it's my job, isn't it?" Stanley said. 

"So it is. And you love it very much, don't you? Your job."

Stanley shot her a look, but all he said was, "It is, yes. I just said so, didn't I?"

"Do you know, I quite enjoyed meeting your mother," Pamela said, because she supposed some allowances ought to be made for Stanley being, well, Stanley. "It's a pity tonight wasn't as enjoyable, but then, there's not much one can do about one's parents, is there?"

"Pamela," Stanley said.

On the night she'd heard the news about Julian he'd put his arms around her and told her that he loved her again and again, as if the fact that he loved her could make everything all right somehow - as if she hadn't been able to tell when his feelings had changed from indifference to non-indifference.

"You really don't have a lot of excuses left for not having proposed to me yet, you know," she said.

Stanley sipped from his drink. "So why don't you tell me why I haven't so far?"

"No. I don't think I will do that. But it's good of you to assume I do know," Pamela said.

Stanley's smile was a bit wry. "I've realized that when it comes to you, it's safest to assume you know everything, usually better than everyone else."

"Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it?"

"Of course, I like to think I'm not included in that 'everyone else'," Stanley said. "But, well, let's be fair here."

"By all means, let's." Pamela wondered how long it would take him after tonight. A week, perhaps. He would want to be traditional, to get her a ring, and he would want it to be something special, or personal, at the very least, something that would tell her he'd spent time and effort as well as money.

"You are quite probably the most amazing woman - person, even, that I have ever met," he said.

"That's very sweet of you to say, Stanley. Thank you."

Stanley gestured with his glass. "It's the truth."

"And are people much given to going about and telling the truth, in your experience?"

Stanley grinned at her and she felt a bit surprised to realize he was thinking of her and what she had said and done on the train to Dover - and before. "Some of us more than others, I suppose."

"You suppose," Pamela repeated. She wanted to take him someplace where she would have him all to herself and kiss him and taste cigarettes and alcohol. "Stanley, will you marry me?"

"I think it appears I probably will," he said.

"Most people consider it rather more of a yes-or-no question."

She'd timed it just right: he choked on his drink, sputtered, then gave her a look she had rather come to enjoy.

"Well?" she asked.

"Then, yes." Stanley shrugged. "If you'll have me."

"I will. I think I would find it quite vexing if anyone else were to marry you, so you see, it must be me. And, of course, there's the fact that I love you and you love me, and it doesn't seem like that's going to change any time soon, which is remarkable, really. Unless you'd prefer surprising?"

"Same number of letters," Stanley said, as she'd known he would. "Amazing, perhaps. Or astonishing. Or ooh, flabbergasting, that one's nice and long."

She kissed him and he shut up. For a little while, at least.


End file.
